


Man on Top

by Amuly



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Flirting, Fluff, Hair, Humor, M/M, Rough Sex, Roughhousing, grapple play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-04 00:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony isn't as great at grappling as he thought. Thankfully, Steve knows how to soothe a man's ego. PWP</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man on Top

  


“This is getting embarrassing pretty fast.”

Tony panted heavily against the floor while at the same time narrowing his eyes into what could pass for a glare at Steve as he laughed at his complaint. A moment later Steve was leaning down to look at him. At least, Tony thought Steve was leaning down to look at him: he could feel Steve's weight shift forward and assumed that's what it meant. Right now Tony was on his stomach, with all patented US muscles of writhing sexiness that was Steve Rogers planted solidly on his back, thighs pressed into thighs and one hand clasping both Tony's wrists together in an entirely impossible to break grip. The other hand was pressing fingertips lightly to the nape of Tony's neck, playing with some tufts of hair there. Tony had been meaning to get that cut.

“Do you give up?”

Flexing a little bit, Tony pondered his position. His breaths came a little slower, gasping pants turning into heavy breathing as he forced his body to calm down and his mind to take back over. Steve's thighs weren't moving anytime soon – those two meat hammocks might as well be made of the gold and titanium alloy used in the Iron Man suit. Tony flexed again, only to confirm that his legs couldn't move any distance at all. Correction: Steve's legs were almost definitely _heavier_ than the Iron Man armor. Great.

“Come on.” Steve's breath was hot against Tony's ear, causing him to jerk beneath the larger man. He had to work to suppress a moan. “Give up.”

Tony flexed his arms. Steve's hand was big, and solid, but he thought... if he could just... Tony considered his wrists. If he could turn them both in, he could make them suddenly thinner in Steve's palm, loosening his grip and giving him the opportunity he needed to break free. “Thinking,” Tony mumbled, just so Steve wouldn't take his silence as acquiescence to defeat. 

As smoothly as he could, Tony twisted his wrists and tugged. He was able to slip out of Steve's grip, freeing both his hands in an instant. Okay. Good. Maybe now he could just shove up with his shoulders and-

“Gotchya. Again.”

Tony huffed petulantly against the padded floor of the gym. His wrists were safely ensnared in Steve's hands – both of his hands, this time. He hadn't even managed to move the big guy: his hips were still pressed tightly against Tony's ass, his thighs locked over Tony's own. Tony squirmed a little, allowing himself a moment's indulgence as he rocked back against Steve's half-hard groin. Fuck. The longer they did this – and they had been wrestling around on the gym floor for almost an hour now – the more the idea of giving up and letting Steve be on top tonight was a good idea. Probably the first good idea Tony had come up with all night, considering his first “good idea” had been to agree to grapple with Steve to decide who would be on top tonight. Pinned beneath all the bulk that was Steve's super-serum enhanced form, Tony couldn't figure out  _what_ he had been thinking at the start of this. That he was smaller than Steve, and somehow more agile? That if they were just grappling and not sparing, Steve's power wouldn't give him as much of an advantage?

_Smart, Stark. Really fucking smart. And they call you a genius_ . He should give back four of his honorary doctorates just for all the missteps in logic he'd managed to make this evening. 

Tony tried flexing his wrists again. No. This wasn't going to work. Allowing himself one last, good huff into the padded floor, Tony grumbled out: “Okay. Give. One more round, though.”

Immediately Steve's weight was off him, and Tony slowly pulled himself up into a seated position. Fuck. Twisting to the side, Tony stretched until he felt – and heard – his back pop. He rolled his neck as he took Steve's extended hand, popping that as well as he let Steve yank him to his feet. Steve's expression was much to smug for Tony's liking, but he could change that. He just had to win. He hadn't managed to for the past hour, and had gotten pinned about six times, but. Hey. Lucky number seven, right? Tony liked to think Lady Luck had a soft spot for him. And not just because he could screw Vegas royally if he even bothered to pay attention when he gambled. 

Steve's fingers ran through Tony's hair, a grin curling lopsided on his face. Tony rolled his eyes, slapping Steve's hands away and squatting a little as he got ready to go again. “Come on, come on. Let's go.”

Steve shrugged, stretching his arms above his head. His muscles rippled as he did: sweat-slicked skin flexing and contracting, biceps and triceps and trapeziums all moving in a gorgeous, practically Grecian perfection. 

Tony felt a sudden urge to wipe drool from his chin, even if there wasn't any actually there.

“You sure you're ready? Don't need a water break?”

Tony rolled his eyes. Steve barely looked flustered, so therefore Tony shouldn't be feeling  _that_ tired. Even if his muscles did ache, surprisingly much. And his arms and thighs felt a bit like wet noodles. Actually, now that he was taking a moment to assess his body, Tony found he was feeling more and more like a newborn kitten: all mewling weakness, no strength. Far be it for him to let that stop him.

“I'm good,” Tony choked out, even if his throat felt abruptly like the Sahara. Or better, more apt: like Afghanistan. “Let's go.”

With one last stretch of his arm above his head. Steve shrugged and dropped them, letting his arms swinging gently back and forth: first behind him, then in front, then back again. “Okay,” Steve said. Tony ignored what sounded like amusement in his voice. “Whenever you're ready.”

Tony lunged forward, throwing his shoulder into Steve's chest as one leg kicked out in an attempt to knock Steve's feet out from under him. It didn't work: Steve side-stepped Tony's leg easily and turned, using Tony's weight to propel him past him. Tony knew that, he knew that was something Steve would do, so he was ready for it. He twisted, turning to try and grab onto Steve's back. If he could just cling to him... just hold on until Steve got tired...

A gust of air escaped Tony's lungs as Steve allowed himself to fall backwards, crushing Tony between his weight and the floor. Shit. Shit, shit, complete pitting-of-the-metal-he-was-going-to-use-in-a-new-propulsion-system  _shit_ . But Tony wasn't giving up yet. He  _couldn't_ : not if he wanted to save face. Even though, okay, maybe he was starting to get as hard as he knew Steve already was. And even though maybe Steve sitting on him wasn't exactly doing much to dampen his arousal.

“Give?”

With a loud grunt Tony rolled himself out from under Steve and up to at least his hands and knees. Steve was laughing, hesitating for a moment as he let Tony have his momentary victory. Tony decided not to look too closely at that, and count his victory as a matter of skill and strength, rather than a result of his too-nice boyfriend's indulgence. Narrowing his eyes, Tony watched Steve, while doing his best to ignore the sudden, horrible weakness in his arm and thighs. He wasn't sure he'd be able to hold himself up in the shower right then, much less take Steve down. But he had to try. One more time. Maybe he'd get lucky.

Tony moved again, stumbling forward without much of a plan. Steve sidestepped him easily, grabbing Tony's shoulders and pushing him to the mats. Tony's cheek was pressed against the floor, his arms and legs held easily in place by what could only be half of Steve's weight. Moving his hips slightly, Tony tried to push up. Nothing. He couldn't raise them an inch. He tried again, only to be rewarded this time by Steve moving down with him, grinding his hips into Tony's ass. Tony moaned, the press of Steve's more-than-half-hard erection against his sore muscles feeling better than it might normally. His asshole clenched and relaxed. Fuck. Okay, that was it: he was ready for this. Even if he  _could_ muster the energy to go against Steve again, Tony didn't want to. He needed Steve to take him. Now.

“Fuck, give, give,” Tony breathed. He turned his head a little more so Steve could hear him better – though with all those super-serum-enhanced senses, he didn't really need to. “Done,” Tony panted. “Done, come on, give. You win. Fuck... Steve, fuck me, come on. Need it.”

Steve moved in an instant: not off Tony, just lifting himself above him for a moment. At the sound of cloth moving over skin Tony lifted himself up on one sore elbow, reaching his other hand down to tug off his sweat pants. Bare skin met bare skin as Steve lowered himself back down, erection sliding along the cleft of Tony's ass. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tony moaned, already halfway to being _broken_. Above him Steve moved again: this time to take his shirt off, then tug Tony out of his. Tony allowed himself to be manhandled, enjoying it, even. Not that he had the strength to do much more, at the moment. Their shirts flew off to the side of the gym, tossed there by Steve. Tony didn't pay attention to that. He was too focused on rutting his ass against Steve's erection, on the panting breaths that were escaping from _both_ men, not just Tony himself. It gave his ego a bit of a well-needed boost, at least: the thought that Steve was just as wrecked as he was, just as eager and aroused and interested in the proceedings. 

Tony breathed harder as he reached a hand back and rubbed as Steve's flank. “Come on, big boy,” he grunted. “Come on. Fuck me. No prep, just go, don't need it. Come on, come on...”

“Shut up, Tony,” Steve growled. Tony's hips twitched forward, his erection rubbing against the rough foam pads beneath him. Fuck, but Steve was _hot_ when he got all commanding like that. 

“Come on, babe. Fuck, please. You know I need it. Fuck me, please, Steve, just-”

Tony choked back an entirely undignified yelp – Steve might have beat him summarily and earned the rights to topping tonight, but that didn't mean Tony lost  _all_ self-respect – as Steve grabbed at Tony's body and flipped him over. His big hands wrapped around Tony's waist, moving him onto his back. 

Swallowing hard, Tony panted as he stared up at Steve. His big blue eyes were wide as he stared down at Tony with unadulterated lust in them; his blonde hair starting to approach something that could be labeled “ruffled”, to Tony's pride. Tony got barely a smirk in warning before Steve was sliding down Tony's body and taking his length into his mouth. Tony gasped, one hand flying down to tangle in Steve's golden locks as the other scraped at the soft floor.

“Oh, fuck, yeah, Steve. There, just... fuck, fuck...” Tony found his mouth refusing to stay shut even when his brain had nothing for it to say. Eventually even the few words he could manage dissolved into loud panting and moaning as Steve's head bobbed rapidly up and down between Tony's legs. His tongue worked against Tony's length, licking and slurping and generally _savoring_ Tony's taste with a kind of gusto Tony would have thought impossible of the seemingly straight-laced ex-war hero. 

But oh, to Tony's delight Steve  _did_ love it. He loved Tony's cock: the taste, the smell... Tony gasped and bucked hard as Steve slid all the way off his length, only to suck both of his balls into his mouth. His tongue laved at the heavy sacks, lips sucking and caressing them as Steve hummed in appreciation between Tony's legs. When he finally pulled back and took Tony's erection into his mouth, it was all Tony could do not to come. Steve was even helping, with one hand gripping the base of his erection tightly to stave off his orgasm. Even so, Tony bucked into mouth and felt himself spurting precome, cock twitching against the roof of Steve's mouth. The bit of flavor only seemed to make Steve want more: his eyes fluttered closed and he moaned around Tony's cock, the vibrations forcing Tony to clench his teeth as he tried desperately not to come. His fingernails were tearing up bits of the foam padding on the floor.

As good as it was, Tony knew he needed more. He didn't want to get off just from Steve's mouth – even though, oh, Steve's  _mouth_ . His lips all cherry red with spit and exertion, his tongue licking hard against the vein on the underside before sliding up to lap at every little squirt of precome that came out of Tony's slit. But no. Tony needed  _Steve_ : all of Steve, the fullness of Steve's length inside of him. With a couple forceful tugs at Steve's hair, Tony managed to pull him off.

They stared at each other for a moment as Tony tried to force his mouth to work. There was spit and precome in the corner of Steve's mouth. No, yeah: Tony's mouth wasn't going to work. Not with his brain only able to focus on  _that_ .

Luckily, Steve knew. Steve always knew. With a grin he grabbed at Tony's waist and manhandled him again, turning him over to his hands and knees. In a moment Tony collapsed down to his elbows, his arms still too weak and overworked to hold him up. Steve didn't seem to mind: he just wrapped his big hands around Tony's hips and moved him where he wanted him. Tony shifted his weight to one elbow so he could reach down and grab the base of his erection, staving off orgasm again.  _Fuck_ . That Steve could move him so easily, like he weighed nothing at all... Tony pressed his hips back, feeling his insides clench and loosen in anticipation. 

Abruptly Steve's warmth left him for a moment, his strong hands vanishing from Tony's hips. Tony whined – no, not  _whined_ , groaned, made a complaining noise which was definitely masculine and not at all  _plaintive_ – and rubbed his cheek against the floor. “Steve, Steve, fuck, come on, need you, please, Steve...”

Sweat-blurred vision followed Steve as he hurried across the gym to his bag. He returned after just a moment of scrambling inside it, small tube clenched tightly in one big hand. Tony's mouth went dry at the sight, imagining those hands inside of him in just a few minutes. Already too hard and impatient and incredibly wanting, Tony reached behind himself and started stroking at his dry hole. It clenched and opened, already eager.

“Stop, Tony. Let me,” Steve panted as he dropped down behind Tony once more. 

“Two,” Tony commanded. “Start with two. Can't wait. You know I can take it, come on, go, put them- _fuck_.” All the air escaped Tony's lungs in a single rush as two of Steve's digits were pressed inside of him. “Yeah, fuck, Steve, more, come on.” Tony's hands clenched at the the floor, his body opening to Steve's thick, probing fingers. 

Tony panted, thrusting back as well as his strength allowed him onto Steve's fingers. They were so thick, so dexterous and probing, but they still weren't enough. Even as Steve slid them in and out, roughly massaging Tony's inner walls and coating them with wet slickness, Tony wanted more. “Steve,” Tony choked out, trying to move his hips back harder, faster.

Abruptly Steve's fingers were gone. Tony clenched and twitched, body seeking that fullness again. There the sound of slick skin moving against slick skin for a moment, then one of Steve's hands returned to grip at Tony's hips. “Yes, Steve, come on.”

Steve's body enveloped Tony's, chest pressed against Tony's back, hand holding his hips up into the air. His breath brushed against Tony's hair, his ear, as he started to press forward. “Is it...” Steve's voice left him as Tony felt the first push of his arousal inside. “Too... I can...”

“Don't you dare fucking stop,” Tony gritted out. “Just... oh, oh... _fuck_ , Steve.” Tony was _full_. Deliciously, perfectly full as Steve continued to press further inside of him, stopping only once his hips met Tony's ass. Tony gasped at the sensation, body quivering with it. Pathetically he rubbed his face against the floor, unable to do anything more toward taking his own pleasure in hand. Steve was in charge, today. It was up to Steve when they fucked, how hard, how fast. It was up to Steve when Tony could come. Tony's hands clenched again at the floor, his body shaking.

Sloppy open-mouthed kisses were pressed to the side of Tony's face, until he turned his head enough to allow Steve access to his mouth. Panting breaths and lapping tongues met as Steve's hips began to move, tortuously slowly back and forth. Desperate, Tony captured Steve's lower lip in his teeth, a growl rising in his throat. “Move, Steve. Stop... fuck,  _bastard_ .”

Tony received a gentle nip of his own in a rebuke for his language., though Steve's hips started moving faster. A few attempts at hard thrusts in and Steve was pulling himself up, away from Tony's mouth for a better angle. Tony wasn't about to complain: not when it felt like Steve was burying himself even further inside. From behind Tony Steve groaned, then shifted: keeping one hand on Tony's hip and moving the other to the back of Tony's neck, pressing him into the floor. Tony was pretty sure he was actively drooling onto the padding. He couldn't find it within himself to care.

Steve's thrusts picked up then, with the shift in position. It was all Tony could do to lie there and let himself be used, be  _fucked_ into oblivion by him. Steve's grip was tight on his neck and hip, holding him in place, seeking his own pleasure with – seemingly – no care for Tony's. But Tony knew him better than that. Steve was angling inside of Tony just right to drag along his prostate with every thrust. He was holding Tony in his bruising grip, but he was doing it because Tony couldn't; Tony was beyond the ability to hold himself up, to keep his body angled correctly. Steve was doing it for him.

“Tony,” Steve panted. His fingers clenched in Tony's hair, fingernails scraping along his scalp and palm squeezing almost too hard at the back of Tony's neck. Tony groaned and flexed, pushing his hips back and his face forward, pressing it even more against the floor. The slap of sweat-slicked skin against sweat-slicked skin filled the air of the gym, mingling with their harsh panting and throaty moans. “Tony, you-”

“Do it, fuck, Steve, I'm right there,” Tony ranted, “Come on, fuck, just-” With every bruising thrust Tony's brain felt like it was firing faster and faster, until the whole mess turned into a surge of constant white noise, washing out everything besides Steve, Steve, _Steve_ : Steve's hand on his neck, Steve's hand on his hip, Steve's powerful thighs brushing against his limp ones, Steve inside him, filling him, spreading him out and using him. With a full-body shudder Tony came, spilling his release all over the gym floor. 

Just as Tony was starting to come down and his mind was able to refocus on how rung out he felt, how he couldn't possibly take anymore Steve had to give him, Tony felt Steve still behind him, heard his broken little surprised “ _Oh_ ,” – which would never get old, that wrecked little noise Steve always made when he came – felt Steve pulse inside of him and a wet warmth added to all the other sensations.

Tony waited as Steve trembled through his own release, reaching a tired hand back to rub at Steve's flank, arm – whatever he could reach – in reassurance. After one, two beats, Steve was moving back and slipping out of Tony, extracting his hands from where they were practically embedded in Tony's skin. Their breaths were loud in the sudden quiet of the gym. Tony felt over-heated and chilled all at once. In the stillness the sweat was starting to cool on his skin, but his breath felt hot, cloying with every exhalation. 

“Hey.” Steve's hand threaded through Tony's hair as he settled against his back. Tony just groaned and rolled over, every muscle aching. If a super villain burst through the gym door just now, Tony didn't think he'd have the strength to even stand, much less fight. Of course, that's what Steve and his stamina – _incredible_ stamina – were good for. 

Steve's fingers felt good, running gently over Tony's scalp as they were now. They tangled carefully in Tony's hair, pulling slowly and deliberately at knots and wiping away sweat. Tony smiled and pushed backwards a bit, until Steve threw his other hand over Tony's waist. 

“You alright?” 

Tony laughed. If he had the energy to stretch luxuriously, he would have. “You kidding me?”

A kiss was pressed to Tony's hair; he could feel the smile on Steve's lips as he kept them there. “Just making sure.” Tony thought he might have been feeling the words pressed into his hair more than he heard them. Then Steve's gentle tone changed, and he pinched at Tony's waist. “You  _did_ take quite a beating, earlier.”

Tony tried throwing an elbow back and catching Steve in his gut. All he managed was some sort of elbow-caress to Steve's abs. Steve just laughed and caught the elbow, dancing his fingers over it. 

Just as Tony was starting to think that this floor was perfectly adequate for taking a quick nap on, Steve patted at his flank and pressed another kiss to his hair. “Come on,” he murmured, “Let's get you upstairs. Shower?”

Tony groaned. No way. Not unless he got a nap first.

Steve quickly corrected himself: “Bath?”

Tony grinned.  _That_ sounded more like something he could manage, just now. 

Before he knew what was happening, Tony found himself being swept up in Steve's arms and carried above the gym floor. Tony squawked, probably incredibly undignified but hey, not like the security cameras were rolling just now. He had made sure of that when they started their little session this afternoon. Steve's face was bright with smiling above him, until Tony batted at his chest enough times that Steve granted Tony his freedom, lowering him to the floor gently and waiting until Tony had his feet under him before letting go. 

“Race you to the bath?” Steve teased. Tony swotted at his ass before he turned his attention to gingerly bending down to pick up his clothes.

“You get there first, you have to draw it,” Tony grumbled. He was so focused on tugging on his sweatpants that Tony didn't notice Steve sidling close to him until he looked up, at which point Steve bent down and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Deal,” Steve murmured. Then he was off, tugging shirt and pants on with altogether too much energy as he went. Tony let himself stare after him for a few seconds, enjoying the view, before turning back to reclothe himself with slightly less vigorous enthusiasm. 

  


  


  



End file.
